


Get What You Need

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bonding, Flying Lessons, Gen, Lessons, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 01:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12002400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: "Shiro taught me everything I know about being a pilot."A look back at the beginning.





	Get What You Need

“Um, Shiro?”

Looking up from the Altean pad-tablet-book-thing, Shiro offered Hunk a smile, if a surprised one.

It was a few days into their surprise induction into becoming Paladins of Voltron.  In that time, they’d all become comfortable around each other.  It was impossible not to, between forming Voltron and going through what they had together.

Despite that, this might have been the first time Hunk had spoken to Shiro one on one.

“Good afternoon,” Shiro greeted, standing up.  “Did you need something?”

Hunk opened his mouth, then curled up a little tighter.  “Um.  Kind of, actually.  I was hoping to ask you something?”

It was impossible to tell if Hunk’s nerves were because the question was a sensitive one, or if he was just unsure of himself.  Regardless, Shiro straightened and offered the most soothing smile he could manage.  “Of course.  Ask away.”

Shifting from foot to foot, Hunk glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting Lance to be there.  Frankly, it was weird for Shiro to see them apart.  “I, uh… I was just wondering if you had some advice.”

Shiro waited, but Hunk didn’t continue.  “I might.  Advice about what?”  His mind immediately jumped to advice about romance, for some reason, and he internally winced.  They were all young adults here, and working together in a very emotionally intimate way.  At some point, Shiro expected to have to deal with the fall out of that.  But he really hoped it wasn’t now.  Especially since the only person Shiro could offer advice for was Keith, and that was a whole other issue.

“Flying,” Hunk finally let out.  

Oh.  Oh!  That made much more sense.  Hunk wasn’t a pilot, so of course he wasn’t as comfortable in the Yellow Lion’s cockpit.

Also: Thank god.

Shiro smiled back, more at ease now.  “If you’d like, sure.  Anything in particular?”  Then he paused, considering.  “Have you already talked to Lance about it?”  It was more likely Hunk had spoken to him first, and it would give Shiro an idea of where to start.

Shifting again, Hunk sighed.  “No.  Not that- Lance is my best friend.  But he’s not really good at explaining stuff like this?  He wants to show me how to do the cool stuff, because he knows I’m not comfortable and thinks it’ll help.  It doesn’t.”  He winced.  “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Unable to help it, Shiro smiled and nodded. “I promise.”

“Thanks.”  Hunk relaxed a touch.  “And I guess I could ask Keith, but he’s not really…”  He winced.  “He’s a good guy, and he’s your friend, I know. But he’s not…”

“Keith isn’t very approachable,” Shiro agreed easily.  Because he wasn’t, not really.  Through a mixture of intentional and unintentional body language, Keith didn’t exactly inspire someone as timid as Hunk to ask for advice.  “And Lance wouldn’t take it very well either, would he?”

Hunk looked up, lips quirked.  “No, not really.  He definitely wouldn’t have that problem with you, though.  You’re- you know, you’re really good at flying.  Obviously.”

Smile softening, Shiro shrugged.  “I am,” he replied, because to say anything else would be a lie.  He was.  It was why he’d been chosen to fly to Kerberos even before he was technically old enough for deep space missions.  Matt, too.

There was a thought he needed to avoid.

Shiro held the pad closer and took a deep breath, shoving the memory away.  Not now.  “You never said what kind of advice you were looking for.”

“Oh.”  Hunk’s fingers caught the ends of his headband, fiddling with the edges.  “I don’t really know?  It’s kind of… everything.”

Oh, boy.

That was a little more than ‘advice’ at that point.

Shiro looked down at the pad one more time, turning it over in his hands.  He’d succeeded in getting onto the castle’s database, but hadn’t yet managed to figure out how to turn on the translation program that Coran had mentioned.  Meaning it was functionally useless, unless he wanted to look at the pretty pictures.

Yeah, screw it.

Dropping the pad onto the table, Shiro stepped over.  “How about this, then.  We go to the Yellow Lion, and we talk there.  You can tell me what we’ve done recently that you weren’t sure about.  That good?”

Hunk’s eyes went wide.  “Oh!  I mean… you sure?  That could take forever.”

“Well, if we’re needed sometime soon, we’re already in one of the lions, so we’ll be ahead of schedule,” Shiro replied easily.  “And honestly?  There’s not a lot more important than making sure you’re comfortable flying.  I feel like we’re going to be doing a lot of that.”

Sighing, Hunk nodded morosely.  “Yeah,” he muttered back.  “Probably true.  Okay.  Um, thank you.”

Shiro smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t thank me yet.”

If Hunk wasn’t comfortable asking Keith for advice, he’d probably never asked how they knew each other.  Which meant Keith had never told Hunk any stories about how Shiro gave lessons.

If Shiro’s smile had a hint of mischief, Hunk didn’t seem to notice.

***

Sitting down in Yellow’s cockpit, Hunk put his hands on the controls.  The panels lit up, nearly eye-searing compared to what Shiro was used to in Black.  But Hunk only smiled, seeming pleased by the color, or at least to his connection to the lion.

Shiro understood that.  He felt better when he was in the pilot’s seat.  He always had, but Black was different.  When he was connected to the lion, Shiro felt bigger.  He felt more capable.  He felt like a hero instead of like-

Instead of who he’d been for the past year.  Whoever that was.

Judging by Hunk’s soft smile, Shiro thought Yellow had a similar effect on him.  He straightened up, no longer slouching quite so much, and set his shoulders.

But then Hunk looked back at Shiro, brow furrowed.  “What did you want to do, here?”

“Well.”  Shiro drew out the word, leaning against the side of the chair.  “We can sit here and talk, and we’ll do our best to work through what you’re not comfortable with.  But I’m going to guess the bulk of the problem is that you just aren’t sure what you’re doing, right?”

Cheeks going red, Hunk nodded.  “Yeah.  When I’m working on engines, I know what’s going on.  In here I’m just… guessing and hoping.”

Shiro nodded.  “I don’t think that’s ever going to go away,” he offered, tone softening with sympathy.  “There’s no manual for a battle.  We’re never really sure what’s going to happen next, the way you can predict a machine.”

Lips thinning, Hunk nodded.  His shoulders crept up tightly, until they were nearly at his ears.  “Yeah,” he agreed quietly.  “I know.”

“But,” Shiro continued.  “The point of training is to give you valuable experience anyway.  And if you’re not comfortable with how to fly, the best thing you can do is to practice.”

Hunk took a deep breath, then nodded.  “You’re right,” he agreed, though he didn’t sound happy about it.  His fingers tapped a staccato rhythm against the controls.

Smiling sympathetically, Shiro nodded.  “It’s just not what you want, right?  You were hoping I had the magic secret to flying well, and I’d pass it on and it would be easier.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds dumb.”

“No, when I say it like that it sound human,” Shiro replied.  “It’s scary.  I’m scared, when we go out there.  We never know what’s going to happen.  So of course you want the fastest way to get better.  But the best way is slow and a lot of work, and that’s not comforting.”

Hunk nodded, barely a jerk of his head.  “Yeah.  So you want me to fly?”

Bracing his hand on the back of Hunk’s chair, Shiro nodded.  “I think it’d be helpful.  I’ll make sure we do more flying in our usual training, but some one-on-one might help.  I know it can be hard to ask questions when there’s so much else going on.”

Hunk winced, but smiled.  “Yeah,” he agreed, easier now.  “A little.  Okay.  One-on-one time.  That’s- that’s good.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Shiro replied, amusement coloring his voice.  “But…”  He paused, biting his bottom lip.  “Are you okay with that?  You don’t sound…”  Frankly, Hunk sounded pretty unhappy about it.

Looking up, Hunk’s mouth fell open. “I- oh.  Oh!  No, not like that.  I mean, yeah, it’s a little nerve wracking.  I’m not a pilot, and I’m getting lessons from you.  Lance had your poster.  It’s weird, is all.”

Oh.  Shiro winced.  He never really got used to that.  After he’d been picked for the Kerberos mission, there’d been a media blitz that had left Shiro with a touch of celebrity status, and it was… it was weird.  Mostly, he hadn’t had to deal with it.  He’d been busy.  And then he’d been a prisoner for a year, and had apparently developed a very different kind of following.

 

Bad thoughts again.

Hunk let go of the controls and turned around, frowning at Shiro.  “Um.  Did I say something wrong?  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Shiro replied immediately.  “It’s just weird to remember there were posters of me, that’s all.  If it helps, you can think of me like…” He frowned.  “No, I take it back, don’t think of me like Iverson.”

Cracking a grin, Hunk laughed.  “I won’t, I promise.  He probably liked you though, right?”

“Are you kidding me?  It’s Iverson’s job to make everyone think he personally hates them and wants them to fail.”  Shiro shook his head.  “I was certain he was looking for an excuse to knock me down a few pegs.  But he eases up a lot in your last year or so, once the people who are going to break and drop out finally do.  He’s still kind of… intense, though.”

“Oh.”  Hunk paused, blinking.  “I never thought of that.”

“You’re not supposed to,” Shiro agreed.  “That’s his job.  He’s really good at it.”

Hunk nodded.  “I still don’t think of you like him.  You’re nicer.”

Smiling, Shiro laughed.  “Nicer than a drill instructor.  Not a very high bar, but I’ll take it.  Seriously, I don’t want…”  he trailed off, thinking of how to put this.  “I want to make sure you feel comfortable with me.  This isn’t like the Garrison, not really.  I don’t want to be Takashi Shirogane to you.  Other than that’s my name and I’m still that person, but- I’m Shiro.”

For a moment, Hunk tilted his head, looking up at him.  Then, slowly, he smiled.  “Okay.  Yeah.  You are.  Sorry.”

“You weren’t saying anything that isn’t true,” Shiro replied.  “Nothing to be sorry for.”

Hunk shrugged.  “I know you’re not Iverson, and I really don’t think you’ll be sitting there judging me.  And you’re nice.  So you’re right, you’re Shiro.”

Somehow, it was soothing to hear Hunk say that.  You’re Shiro.

Not something else.

Not Champion.

“Thank you,” Shiro replied, honest and warm.  Hunk smiled back, responding to the tone, even if he didn’t understand the source of Shiro’s ease.  “Want to get started?”

Nodding, Hunk took a deep breath.  “Yeah.  Let’s go slow?”

“We’ll start slow,” Shiro agreed, smiling.

Hunk’s eyes darted toward him, but he didn’t call out the distinction as the hangar opened, and they flew out into open space.

***

“No, no, Hunk, you need to get higher or else we’ll-”  Shiro was cut off as they jolted, Yellow’s back colliding solidly with an meteor.  

Yeah, they hadn’t managed to clear it.  So much for dodging practice.

Groaning, Hunk let go of the controls to cover his face.  Without his control, Yellow twisted back onto their paws but otherwise didn’t lift back off the surface.  “I’m so bad at this,” he groaned.  “Why am I a paladin?  Why couldn’t I have stayed on the ship and helped there?”

Shiro patted his shoulder, rocking him gently.  “You’re not bad at this,” he corrected.  “You’re just not used to it, that’s all.”

Peeking out through his fingers, Hunk scowled.  “What’s the difference?”

“It means you just need practice,” Shiro replied, shoulders set.  “That’s why we’re doing this.  So when it matters, this won’t be a problem.  It’s okay to mess up now.”

Hunk went back to burying his face.  “But if I can’t do it now, there’s no way I can do it when people are shooting at me.”

“You’d be surprised,” Shiro replied.  “Being attacked is a very good motivator.”  That earned him a wide-eyed look from between Hunk’s fingers, but Shiro ignored that completely.  “We just do it again.”

Finally dropping his hands, Hunk sighed.  “I guess.  I just don’t know why I can do it and Lance and you and Keith can.”

Shiro’s brows rose.  “Lance gets it perfect every time?”  Keith he could understand.  He’d almost had a near supernatural ability to avoid accidents, even when pulling strange stunts.  Lance, on the other hand, was good, but not that kind of natural.  Considering Shiro had watched him fly right into a spire, he figured Lance was the ‘work had until you get it right’ kind.

There was a long pause.  “No,” Hunk admitted.  “He has to practice a lot.”  

Biting back a smile, Shiro arched his brows.  “And you thought you didn’t need practice because…?”

“I don’t usually fail!” Hunk replied, voice raising a pitch.  “Especially this badly, and over and over.  I get good at it before I try, or else…”  He trailed off, looking away.

“Or else you avoid it, right?”  Shiro grinned.  “I’m the same way.”

Hunk paused, then looked up at him.  “You are?”  His fingers stilled on the controls, and he sounded so frankly disbelieving that it was nearly insulting.

Arching a brow back, Shiro tilted his head.  “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“’Cause…”  Hunk’s cheeks went pink.  “Well, ‘cause you never seen to be bad at anything.  You just… do things.  Right away.  Like the lion exercise.”

Shiro considered Hunk, deciding how honest he should be.  There was a certain comfort in believing one’s commanding officer was capable in all situations.  

But right now, Hunk seemed to need a human being more than he needed a figure to look up to.

“A cunning disguise,” Shiro offered.  “I’m very good at adapting and acting like it’s natural.  You can ask Keith.  He’s seen the opposite.  Mostly I’m adjusting on the fly and trying to act like I always meant to do that.  And there’s plenty of things I’m terrible at.  I’ve never managed to make a dinner without burning it.”

Hunk snorted. “Not never.”

“Oh, I’m being literal.”

Pausing, Hunk leaned back to stare at Shiro.  “How old are you again?”

“Old enough to be better than that, and here I am.”  Shiro shrugged.  “But you’d never catch me in the kitchen around people, because I don’t like an audience when I’m struggling.  It makes me more nervous, and that makes it worse, and suddenly I’m not just burning food, I’m breaking pans.”

Hunk’s eyes widened.  “Please don’t break my pans!”  Then he actually seemed to consider Shiro’s words.  “You never seem scared,” he offered.  “Not like you’re worried what people will think.”

Giving a thin smile, Shiro shook his head and looked down at the back of Hunk’s chair.  His fingers tightened on the edge.  “I care a lot,” he admitted.  “More than I should.  I want people to think well of me.  I want you all to feel comfortable and safe as I can manage.  I wanted the Garrison to think I was responsible enough for a historic mission.”  He laughed, just a touch bitter.  “Whoops.”

Hunk continued to stare.  “You don’t have to worry about us,” he finally offered, voice small.  “You’re seeing me fail, and you don’t think worse of me.  Right?  You don’t?”

“I don’t,” Shiro agreed.  “But it’s a little different with your leader, right?”

Biting on his bottom lip, Hunk didn’t argue.  “I just think you can trust us, that’s all,” he finally said.  He reached out and gripped the controls.  Under them, Yellow shifted, prepared to launch.  “I’m ready to try again.”

“You’ll get it,” Shrio said.  “Maybe not this next time, but you’re close.  Just a little more power.”

Hunk took a deep breath.  “I can do it,” he muttered, like he was psyching himself up.

“You can do it.  And Yellow can do it.  You just need to work together.”

Eyes closed, Hunk nodded.  “Okay.”  With that, he launched, then arched up and back, trying to navigate around the tight circumference of the meteor.

They crashed again, but it was closer, and this time Hunk got right back up.

The next time, they made it.

***

“Feeling better?” Shiro asked, as they stepped out of Yellow’s maw into the castle.

Hunk considered, looking back at his lion. “Yeah,” he admitted.  “A little.  I still don’t feel good at it?  But I’m definitely better, which helps.”  Glancing over at Shiro, he gave a small smile.  “I think the talk helped more.”

“I’m glad I could help with both, then,” Shiro replied.  “I think you’re right that you needed encouragement more than practice, but doing both at the same time is effective.”

Turning back around, Hunk caught up with Shiro and offered a smile.  “Probably.  You’re good at both.  Um, can you pause, for just one second?”

Shiro did, frowning at him.  “Something wrong?”

“No.” With that, Hunk pulled him in for a hug.  “Thank you.”

At first, Shiro froze, surprised by the touch.  The paladins had been becoming more tactile, but this was the first time Hunk had hugged him one-on-one like this.  He was warm and steady, and he reminded Shiro that they were nearly the same height.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Hunk in return, careful to squeeze with gentle pressure.  No need for the arm to bruise, after all.

“Anytime,” he said, patting Hunk on the back.  “Even if you just need to talk.”

Hunk nodded, then pulled back.  He offered a small but warm smile.  “You too.”

Unlikely, but he appreciated the thought.

“Thank you again, Shiro.”  With a last pat to his shoulder, Hunk smiled and headed off.  “If you ever want a lesson in return, I can probably give you some pointers in the kitchen.”

“Only if you want to replace your pans,” Shiro replied, smiling.  “I appreciate it.  Have a good afternoon.”

When Hunk left, his head held higher, Shiro ran a hand through his hand, smile gentling into something lopsided and more personal.

He’d helped.  In a personal, small way.

Somehow, that felt just as good as defending the universe.


End file.
